


Voicemail

by redandgold



Category: Football RPF
Genre: Humour, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-19
Updated: 2015-05-19
Packaged: 2018-03-31 07:00:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 402
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3968809
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/redandgold/pseuds/redandgold
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's Scholesy's favourite time of day. </p>
            </blockquote>





	Voicemail

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: none of this is real. Except for the bit where Scholesy hits people on the head with his unerring accuracy, just because he can. Notes on who's saying what at the end, just in case you're a tad confused.

_You have ten. New messages. Beep._

“Paul? Peter here. This is a friendly reminder never to chip me again. You might have gotten away with it today, but one day I will be faster than you, and I will get you, and I will kill you. And sell little tufts of ginger hair to the collectors Also get some new shirts, will you? I can fit into some of yours, and I’m twice as tall as you are.” 

_Beep._

“….not that I’ve ever tried. I mean – what? No. I’ve never been in your room, ok? Ok. JUST DON’T CHIP ME.”  

_Beep._

“OH MY GOD SCHOLESY WHERE THE FUCK ARE ALL MY PANTS AND WHO THE FUCK LET YOU INTO MY ROOM WAS IT PHIL I BET IT WAS PHIL HOW THE FUCK AM I GONNA DO ANYTHING MY PANTS! SCHOLESY! WHY THE FUoh hello Sir Al – ”

_Beep._

“I’ve just been going through your interview footage, Paul, and haven’t we talked about this before? Things have got to be longer than thirty seconds and vaguely comprehensible. You can’t just tell them you want to go home. Try talking about seagulls or something, ok?”

_Beep._

“Mate, I think the lads are gonna take legal action against you for the whole ‘let’s aim for people’s heads while they’re having a piss’ thing. I know a good lawyer, if you need him. His name’s, um, Dicky Rutt. Um. Charges a ton, but he’ll get you off all right. Let me know, eh?”

_Beep._

“Scholesy what the fuck did you do I’ve locked the door but I think Gaz is going to bang it down I’m scared for my fucking life oh my god Scholesy”

_Beep._

“Hey, Paul. I’ve got a couple extra tickets to the club tomorrow night, d’you wanna – HA, I just made myself laugh. See you around, mate.”

_Beep._

“This is your manager, Paul. I understand Gary’s pants have gone missing? I also understand next game might be too hot for you to play in.”  

_Beep._

“Hi. Erm. Dicky Rutt here – I understand you might be in need of a good lawyer? Just thought I’d call and leave my contact. I charge £200 by the hour. Either that or you can promise to do our good mutual friend Nicky’s laundry for him for a month.”

_Beep._

“I’VE TAKEN CARE OF PHIL AND I’M FUCKING COMING FOR YOU. YOU HEAR THAT, SCHOLESY? I’M FUCKING COMING.”

* * *

**Author's Note:**

> 1\. Peter Schmeichel  
>  2\. ...PSchmeich again  
>  3\. Gary Neville  
>  4\. PR officer??  
>  5\. Nicky Butt  
>  6\. Phil Neville  
>  7\. David Beckham  
>  8\. Sir Alex  
>  9\. Nicky (Butt why?)  
>  10\. Gary is major pissed (but it's ok you know when he gets there his grumpy turtle instincts will soften and it will be happs) (I bet PSchmeich stole Gaz's pants thinking they were Scholesy's. That is, if he ever went into Scholesy's room. Which he didn't. Ever.)


End file.
